the white picket fence
by miserella
Summary: Finn and Quinn Hudson enjoy the little things. Future, domesticity meme template.


the white picket fence

This is my entry for Fuinn Week on tumblr – Day 1 was Future!Fuinn. I used the domesticity meme template because it worked well enough and covered everything I wanted to accomplish, if that makes sense. Enjoy 3,200 words of pure family fluff.

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><p><strong>Who is the big spoonlittle spoon?**

"Rise and shine, sleepyheads!"

It's not like they can ignore the little body bouncing around on their legs and crawling up to their heads (where the bouncing could get dangerous) so Finn and Quinn reluctantly rub away the sleep in their eyes and say goodbye to anymore sleep for the day.

Quinn glances at the clock while Finn tucks the little girl in between them, tickling her sides. "Amelia," Quinn starts, "It's six in the morning."

Giggling at Finn's fingers, she pushes at his hands. "Daddy, stop it!"

He doesn't let up, but her chuckles get so loud that Finn has to laugh himself and pull away. Quinn rolls on her side and uselessly attempts to smooth the tiny girl's blonde locks while Amelia's laughter fades away (but none of their smiles do).

"Why don't you go back to your room and play for a couple hours?" Finn suggests, hoping for his and his wife's sake that she'll do just that. "Let mommy and daddy get a little bit more sleep."

She pouts – her brow furrows and she raises one side of her mouth – before looking at them in question. "Can I play with Chris?"

Quinn shakes her head immediately. "Let your brother get some sleep, too. He's just a baby, Amelia, remember."

She sighs loudly, dramatically – something Aunt Rachel taught her, for sure – and jumps out of bed, running down the hall with her little legs, but not before throwing a "Love you guys!" over her shoulder.

Finn and Quinn share a look and dissolve into light laughter. It's the same thing every Sunday, but they both secretly look forward to their daughter's early wake up calls.

Wordlessly, Finn wraps an arm around his wife's waist and pulls her close, dropping a kiss to her cheek. He curls around her, Quinn puts a hand on his forearm around her waist, and they sleep for forty-five more minutes, just like that, before the baby starts to cry.

…

**What is their favourite non-sexual activity?**

It is always a production, putting the kids to bed. Amelia finds every way she can to delay her bedtime, and once that fails, she won't hesitate to reduce herself to screaming, crying, and stomping. That part, they don't love so much.

But Finn is like a wizard when it comes to putting children to sleep; they realized this even before they had their own, when they were visiting Quinn's sister one year for the holidays. Neither Francine or Ian could put little Liz to bed successfully, but after Finn volunteered himself, she was out like a light. Quinn always kept that in mind.

"Amelia, please," Quinn begs, almost, turning the television off for the fifth time. Amelia's cheeks are red and wet from crying and she refuses to budge from her spot on the floor. Quinn sighs and watches as Finn carefully lays a dozing Chris on his shoulder.

"C'mon, Amelia, let's go," he says a little bit more forcefully, but never roughly; that's just not Finn, not with children.

She sniffles, and Quinn can tell she's trying to decide whether or not to continue the fight or give in. But her mother knows her best, and she's right in her predictions when the little girl follows her dad down the hall.

Quinn meets them in there, and takes Chris from Finn to put in the crib. He's the easy one – at least, for now. She gives the sleeping boy a little kiss and checks that he'll be comfortable and safe before she returns to Amelia's room.

She stands in the doorway as Finn pulls the blankets around his daughter and sits on the small chair (meant for children; it always gives Quinn a giggle) he's pulled up for himself. When Amelia's ready, he starts to sing – just what is always different. Sometimes it's a lullaby, and other times an old rock ballad; in any case, it's always soothing, and it always put their little girl right to sleep.

Once she's snoozing, he leans in and kisses her forehead, saying goodnight, and Quinn joins him. They watch over her for a second, where Finn always says the same thing. "We did pretty good, huh?"

Every time, Quinn forgets about the tantrums thrown just minutes before, and nods. Then they get the switch of the lamp and move to their own bedroom where they get to do their _real_ favourite activity: sleeping.

…

**Who uses all the hot water in the morning?**

"Finn," she growls, charging into the washroom. "_What_ is taking you so long?"

The steamy atmosphere hits her all at once and she hears the water shut off. He wraps a towel around his waist as he steps out of the shower, dripping water as he goes.

"Sorry, but there's, like, a lot of me, you know."

After she's grabbed a towel for herself, she turns the water on only to find that its poor temperature bites at her skin.

…

**What do they order from take out?**

Even though Quinn's grown up and she likes to think she's a modern woman, there are still traces of tradition in her, which she's not afraid to admit. She always thought she'd be a housewife when she was growing up, after all, and was raised by one, so it would stand to reason that those values are kind of instilled in her, even if that's something that she's not so keen on.

Anyway, Quinn actually enjoys putting a homecooked meal on the dinner every night. The rest of the family certainly isn't complaining, except for the part where she includes a handful of seasonal veggies every night.

She knows Finn didn't really have that growing up, what with Carole trying to raise him on her own and working full-time. She's happy to do it for him, and he's happy to eat. The kids don't really know the difference, and Chris' dinner is still blended into baby food, but they'll grow to appreciate it, she knows.

Though it's not always practical, since she does work and all, it's a choice that she doesn't regret. She cuts coupons, and they save rather than spend on take out (which might start later on when the kids are older and such), which is perfect. Maybe it'll mean a bigger house or a family vacation one day. Who knows.

Dinnertime is special to her, now – with Finn always peeking in and getting in her way, Amelia wrapping a small apron around herself and creating a mess, and little Chris watching it all from his high chair – and she cherishes it.

…

**What is the most trivial thing they fight over?**

"We're not getting a dog, Finn," she finalizes, telling him firmly but still quiet enough so that the children in the room over can't hear.

He rolls his eyes and leans on the counter while she wipes a dish with a towel, which really sets Quinn off.

"Drop it, okay? The kids are too young still and…" she sighs, throwing the dishtowel back into the sink. "Why do you always get to be the fun one? Daddy wants a dog, daddy wants to go to Disneyland. I hate saying no to them, Finn, but I have to do it, and it makes me the bad guy."

Finn just watches her go off, guilt filling him. "Quinn – what are you talking about?"

"I want to be fun, too. I can be fun," she drops off weakly. She looks away from him and starts to play with the dishtowel again.

He laughs a little, just because of how cute she looks, and steps behind her to rub her shoulders. "You _are_ fun," he assures, "They love you, Q."

She wipes at her eye and leans in to his touch. Composing herself, she exhales and turns around to face him. "We're not getting a dog."

Finn smiles cheekily, rubbing her elbows as he pulls her in close. "Yet."

…

**Who does the most cleaning?**

Finn's a pretty good family man, and Quinn thinks that might've been what he was destined to be all along, over a football player or a singer or whatever else. Sure, he works in the auto shop now and he loves it, but she knows that he loves being a husband and a father even more.

Anyway, his responsibilities have changed since he was a teenager, but he's still Finn, which basically means this:

Quinn doesn't want to be the nagging wife, and most of the time, that's not a problem. Her husband's pretty good at his role, in all honesty. He takes care of the yard. He'll pick up around the house when she's out running errands, or he'll help Amelia with her room and make a game out of it. He straightens up the kitchen and does the dishes after she's cooked, and he's always the one that makes their bed. He's top notch at tidying.

When it comes to those days where the house has earned a full scrub-down, he's not exactly raring to go. "It's _boring_ and it'll get dirty again anyways," he says. Quinn gets to give him that response that wives and mothers always give.

"That doesn't matter, it has to be done."

In the end, Quinn might end up doing all the dirty work – scrubbing the toilet, mopping the floors, dusting the mantle – but she can't deny the happiness she feels when she comes home to a neat and tidy house and gets to say it was all her husband's work.

…

**What has a season pass in their DVR?**

Once the kids are in bed on Friday nights, Finn and Quinn take to the couch with drinks (a beer for him, wine for her) to catch up on the TV they've missed. It's a way of relaxing, and TV became their sort of thing in college, so it's a bit of a tradition, as well.

"What should we watch first?" he asks with his arm pointed at the TV, remote control in hand. Curled up beside him, she watches the screen as he flips through their DVR with all the week's recorded goodies.

They have their selection of comedy and drama, from The Office (their favourite) and Modern Family, to The Walking Dead and Criminal Minds. Quinn likes Mad Men and The Tudors, but those aren't all that interesting to Finn; he prefers Mythbusters and Storage Wars. On Friday nights, though, they watch what they both like.

"I heard that The Walking Dead from this week was really good," Quinn comments, so he clicks play.

…

**Who controls the Netflix queue?**

Their Netflix account is a mess, and it's always suggesting random titles that they might like based on their taste, because it appears that they don't really have any.

Finn's in charge of it, but really, he just takes requests from everyone else in the home. Amelia is always picking out movies based on the picture posted of their cover, and that doesn't really work, so Finn helps her choose from the collection of kids' movies and puts them on the queue.

Finn picks all the action-filled blockbusters that he can fit, which is where Quinn comes in to beg for a few Audrey Hepburn flicks or newly released comedies.

She's tried to get him to relinquish his grip on the queue, but this all started because Puck once walked in on the married couple watching some Nicholas Sparks romance together. Finn complains that Puck never let him forget it, but she knows for a fact that Rachel's roped her own husband into watching The Notebook with her once or twice.

…

**Who calls up the super/landlord when the heat's not working?**

"Daddy's gonna fix it!"

Amelia's excited voice is loud enough to make it down the hall, and what she has to say stops Quinn from continuing to fold the last bit of laundry from her place on the couch. Wrapping her cardigan around her body tighter, she wanders down the hall to the source of the voice. She finds Finn with his toolbox, checking out the heater in the laundry room, with Amelia clapping her hands.

Quinn picks her little girl up, who clamps an arm around the back of her neck, still watching her father with big eyes. "Can you do it?" Quinn asks, hopeful.

"Momma, it's not gonna be cold anymore," Amelia interjects, pointing at Finn. "That's what daddy said."

Finn shrugs. "It shouldn't be too hard."

He pulls out a few tools and Amelia squirms in her mom's arms, wanting to get a closer look. Quinn puts her down and leaves them be, listening as Finn gives his curious daughter some rules if she wants to watch.

They don't need to pay for a repairman, not often, which is why Quinn thinks it helps to have a mechanic husband.

…

**Who steals the blankets?**

The thing is, people don't really realize the strength that's in that little blonde. Even if they know that she was a ballerina for years, was head captain of the Cheerios when it was coached by Sue Sylvester herself, and still goes to the gym regularly, they aren't aware of what a menace Quinn Hudson can be when it comes to stealing the blankets.

Finn gets it, because he is kind of big, and he probably starts the night with most of the blanket, because of body size to blanket ratios… or whatever.

He's as fair as he can be. He cuddles close to make blanket sharing easier; he even bought her another blanket just for her use. Yet, he always wakes up in the middle of the night, holding the corner of the comforter and shivering, while the Quinn-only blanket sits at the bottom of the bed like usual.

Finn knows the secret to making Quinn cut it out, though. It's actually pretty great, because it's a win/win situation for him, and it's simple.

All he has to do, he found, is make love to his wife before bedtime, because Quinn _loves_ to cuddle afterwards – like, clinging to him in the middle of the bed – and the blanket is equally dispersed.

So it always sucks when he starts to get a little handsy during their goodnight kiss, and Quinn pulls away, saying something like, "Sorry, baby, not tonight. We've both got an early morning tomorrow," and turns off the lamp. He knows not to push it, but he also knows that a restful night is not in his near future.

…

**Who leaves their stuff around?**

Mornings at the Hudson home are loud and hectic, which always makes Quinn wonder _why_, and how much chaos can a family of four make? Then she remembers that one of them is Finn, and two are half of him, and it makes a little more sense.

It all starts with a crying baby and a blaring alarm clock, which could be enough to wake the dead. Quinn rolls out of bed, slipping on a robe and sliding into slippers, and goes to grab Christopher. Finn follows soon after, but makes for the kitchen to start the day off with some orange juice.

Amelia's wide awake and staring at her crying brother, which is the sight Quinn meets when she walks into the boy's room. She rubs her daughter's head affectionately and picks up Chris; then, all three of them head for the kitchen so Quinn can get them something to eat.

Upon arrival, Finn holds up what seems to be a broken red crayon and gives a pointed look to the little girl. "Amelia, what did your mother say about leaving your toys around?"

She gasps, eyes wide. "You broke it!"

"I stepped on it because you left it on the ground," he explains before kissing Quinn good morning once she's put sniffling Chris in his high chair.

"I didn't," she claims and crawls into a chair at the table. "It was Chris."

Quinn starts putting a bottle together for Chris and shares a look over her shoulder with Finn. Of course, she's fibbing, but they can't help but be amused.

Finn sighs, placing the crayon on the table and shaking his head. He walks around to her, kisses the top of her head, and does the same to his boy before leaving the room to get ready for work.

Meanwhile, Quinn gives the bottle to Chris, who settles down immediately, and fixes a quick breakfast for everyone else – scrambled eggs and toast. She's putting a lunch for Finn together, too, when he joins them again and starts to scarf down his breakfast. She'd complain about being a maid for the bunch in the morning if she didn't love it so much; she feels like starting the day this way is what really makes her family.

When she sits down, Finn gets up; he thanks her for the meal and starts to go when he realizes he's missing something. Jamming his hands into his pockets, he asks, "Have you seen my keys?"

She swallows her bite and nods. "You left them on the table by the door, with your wallet."

He nods gratefully and gives them all a kiss on his way out, to which everyone waves him off – even Chris.

"Wait!" Quinn blurts in vain, hearing the door shut. She knows he'll realize at noon that he's forgot his lunch on the counter. She also notes the dirty plate and glass still sitting on the table.

'Like father, like daughter,' she thinks, looking at Amelia.

…

**Who remembers to buy the milk?**

Finn insists on doing the grocery shopping, when it's not one of those rare times that they go together, and Quinn is sure he's so adamant because it means he can buy Oreos or ice cream sandwiches, whatever tickles his fancy.

She's not so pleased with it – not because of the treats, but because he's forgetful, plain and simple. It's not so bad when she can give him a written list, but he never does it himself and it usually means she has to grab what he missed the next morning.

He's forgotten things like apples, bread, juice, and cheese – simple things, things that are not exactly hard to remember.

What makes her laugh is how he never forgets the milk. In fact, he always comes home with a jug, whether they need it or not. She asked him once what that was about and he just shrugged.

"I like milk. How do you think I got so tall?"

…

**Who remembers anniversaries?**

There's a big calendar on their fridge, and it's Quinn who takes the red marker and circles the twelfth of June with a pretty cartoon heart.

When it's getting close – with maybe ten days to the day – Finn wakes her up before the alarm goes with a tender kiss. When she opens her eyes, smiling, he gently rubs her cheek with his thumb and starts the countdown.

In six years of marriage, it's been the same way. They don't celebrate with grandiose gestures; that's not so appealing anymore. Instead, they spend it the way they do every day: enjoying the little things.


End file.
